With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them, a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.

The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.

Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.

Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir.

Passion lends them power, time means to meet, tempering extremities with extremes sweet.

Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? And the creature run from the cur. There thou mightst behold the great image of authority-a dog's obeyed in office.

As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.